


Reconnecting

by TransformersG1fan271



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fiction, General fiction, Literature, M/M, Short Stories, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:06:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransformersG1fan271/pseuds/TransformersG1fan271
Summary: Ford finds a long-lost friend and reconnects with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm not sure what quite happened with this, but I have to admit I like what came of this.
> 
> I don't own these precious babes --> Disney XD/Alex Hirsch [](http://shipoji.deviantart.com/art/Oldschool-Gravity-Falls-641719121) [](http://itsaaudra.deviantart.com/art/Ford-Icon-593522603) 
> 
> Enjoy!

“H-He lives in the dump?!” Ford spluttered, eyes wide as he glanced at the other people at the kitchen table with him. Mabel was smiling nervously as she stirred her glass around idly, Dipper’s eyes cast onto the ground as he had placed the second journal down to eat.

“Why do you care about that crazy old hillbilly?” Stan questioned, backing his seat a few inches away when Ford’s angry glare settled on him. He found himself regretting that sentence when Ford all but tossed him into the car after the meal was finished, icy silence filling the car as Stan quickly (and most likely not legally) drove his brother to the dump, speeding away the second Ford had closed the door.

“Fucking moron.” Ford cursed under his breath as he watched the car disappear, shaking his head as he slowly pushed open the gate to the town dump, his heart going lower and lower into his chest as he made his way inside.

“Haha! This is great, that old loser can’t stop us!” Picking up the jeering tones of teenagers Ford turned a corner, his face a scowl when he saw some teens spray-painting the phrase _McLoser_ on the side of a ramshackle looking home.

“That is vandalism!” Ford’s booming voice echoed throughout the scrapyard, the kids bolting without even seeing the angry man behind them, the can bouncing on the ground as it was dropped and left behind. Scowling Ford picked up the spray-paint, studying the ingredients to see if it would be easy to wash off.

“Aw, don’t you pay them no nevermind.” A jovial voice spoke up behind him, Ford glancing over curiously before his eyes went wide. The years had not been kind to his former partner, the man’s arms full of metal and scrap electronics that were unceremoniously dumped into a large metal can just outside of the small home. The man’s eyes were a familiar shade of hazel that Ford knew by heart, shining a bit as they studied the trench coat wearing man that appeared to be more of a statue than anything at the moment. “Y’all lost or somethin’?”

“I-I…” Ford didn’t know what to say, eyes locked on the other as Fiddleford hopped up to balance on a rickety chair with an amused look. He was thin, and seemed to only able to afford a ratty looking pair of brown overalls, though one would hardly notice it under the large white beard that covered most of his thin frame, Ford a bit confused at the band aid. His feet were calloused from what had to have been years without wearing shoes, Ford’s heart dropping more and more as he turned his gaze to the small shack beside him.

“Can I help ya?” Fiddleford chirped, leg bouncing slightly as the tall (and somewhat handsome) male turned to gaze at him again.

“I…” The man seemed at a loss for words once again, Fiddleford frowning as he took in the man’s looks. He was tall, kinda like that Stan Pines fella, but he had the body of someone who worked out every day and had gone through something tough, his stance one ready to fight at the drop of a hat. His wild blue eyes seemed to stare into Fiddleford’s very soul, the gaze unsettling yet…familiar.

“Y’all been here before? I can’t figure it, but ya look real familiar.” The southerner smiled, eyes narrowed slightly as the man moved closer, his six-fingered hands gripped around the canister almost…wait. Before Ford could get close Fiddleford nearly leapt off his perch, eyes wide as he scrambled back from the confused man.

“Fiddleford what’s wrong?” Ford asked, quickly examining the area only to see there was no threat he could perceive with his hand hovering over his blaster. McGucket had used that distraction to scamper up the nearest pile of metal and garbage, Ford looking up at him when he saw McGucket was gone. “Fiddleford?”

“I-I dunno who ya are, b-but get out!” The man shrieked before clutching his head as if in pain. “I don’t…”

“You must be regaining some memories right now…” Ford thought to himself as Fiddleford slowly opened his eyes, locking them onto Ford who looked very nervous and concerned. Memories of his old college buddy, a man who had asked him to change history, the man who ignored his warning like a fool, the man who had tried to rekindle their friendship until he disappeared one day, all of this flashing before McGucket’s eyes like a high-speed movie.

“Fiddleford please say something, I…” Ford trailed off when the southern male began to climb down from his perch after shaking his head slightly, his racing heart calming after the silence over the last 20 minutes as his old friend had stared at Ford as if in a trance. Once on the ground Fiddleford regarded the other in front of him critically, fishing a painfully familiar pair of green goggles from somewhere under his beard and placing them on his face.

“Stanferd…is that really you? The real you?” The question was quiet, Ford slowly nodding his head as McGucket tilted his head.

“I…was rescued from the multiverse by my twin Stanley just two weeks ago, hence the unfortunate damage to the town.” Ford rubbed the back of his neck nervously, shifting his gaze to the ground. “I was wrong, so wrong and I apologize for not listening to you when I could have.”

“Stanferd…” Fiddleford’s voice was soft, the male walking over to Ford and kneeling just a tad to look up at Ford like he had done in their college days, a small smile on his face. “We all made mistakes.”

“Yours don’t potentially end the world.” Ford smiled weakly, Fiddleford straightening the best he could to give the man a tender hug, one that was received quite warmly.

“Nah, but mine like ta destroy towns.” Fiddleford chuckled, cheeks a slight red as he burrowed his face against Ford’s chest with a sigh, lanky arms wrapping around Ford in a way so familiar it caused the first genuine smile on his face in god knows how long.

“Still making robots huh?” Ford chuckled in his deep voice, the southerner grinning up in a way that sent Ford into a fit of laughter. McGucket felt his heart skip a beat as he listened to the man laugh, feelings that he had forced himself resurfacing with such a vengeance it left him breathless.

“Ya know me, I don’t change much.” Fiddleford shrugged, Ford wiping away some tears from his laughter.

“I see that…among other things.” Ford’s tone went serious. “How long have you lived here?”

“Don’t quite remember when, my noggin’s still a little lackin’ in that department.” Fiddleford grinned weakly, gaze uncertain as he stared at his abode.

“My god Fiddleford…I am so sorry you’ve had to live like this.” Ford sighed, his arm wrapped around Fiddleford’s back tightening slightly.

“It’s not yer fault, I shoulda listened to ya ‘bout that gun of mine, though I reckon it woulda changed nothin’.” Fiddleford shrugged, slipping free of Stanford’s grasp with a cheerful grin.

“Had I not been blinded by my foolishness, I could have helped you recover.” The elder sighed, running a hand through his greying hair as Fiddleford shrugged uncomfortably.

“Stanferd, don’t ya go blamin’ yerself, I did this to myself.” Fiddleford said sternly, the two taking shelter in his home when a light rain began to fall upon them. The house was a mess, and the more Stanford took in the more his heart sank at the deplorable conditions his friend was forced to suffer in. Sitting down on the only other chair in the small home Stanford watched Fiddleford make some tea for them both, the researcher’s gaze focused on the southerner. When Fiddleford flashed him a smile Stanford felt his heart skip a beat, something that surprised him despite all he had been through over the years, though as it happened once again it all clicked for Stanford.

Stanford had not felt any romantic inclinations over the years, not even when he was a teenager much to his parents’ disappointment. Fiddleford had been something of an anomaly to Stanford from the start, the two having clicked within the first week of sharing their dorm in a way many would perceive as being in a relationship. Naturally he had denied such things over the years, but looking back with all the experience he had now, Ford realized that perhaps he had just been oblivious to what was clearly happening in front of him right now. Without realizing it Ford had stood up at one point, Fiddleford’s question dying on his cracked lips when Ford gently took his gaunt face into his hands, deep navy eyes staring into bright hazel.

“Hadron…I’ve been a fool.” He murmured, the southerner’s heart racing as he gazed back into the eyes of a man he had loved for over 40 years, but hadn’t had the guts to come forwards and say as much. Back then there was a stigma about those sorts of things, and for a long time he kept silence and diverted suspicion by marrying a woman he had no love forward. When Stanford went missing, he had lost a part of his heart and for so long Fiddleford didn’t know how to get it back. Yet now here was Stanford, the two standing still before slowly Fiddleford leaned up and did what he had dreamt of doing for so long, closing his eyes with a quiet hapy sigh.

He kissed Stanford Pines, and god was it perfect.

At first McGucket felt hesitant as there was no pressure being returned, but the strong arms that had gone slack at the initial gesture wrapping around his thin body sent his heart soaring. Eyes snapping open Fiddleford gazed at the peaceful look on Stanford’s face, the researcher slowly opening his eyes when he finally realized that Fiddleford had stopped kissing him.

“S-Stanferd…” He breathed, hoping that this moment was real and that he wasn’t lost in a dream that would leave him a wreck if he woke.

“F-Fiddleford.” Ford seemed just as breathless, a slight blush creeping its way over his cheeks. “That was…”

“Amazin’?” Fiddleford grinned slightly, arms wrapped around Ford’s neck as if to keep himself steady. Stanford just nodded in agreement, a dumb smile on his face as Fiddleford eventually shooed him back to his seat. They spent the rest of the day talking, though Fiddleford ended up relaxing against his…friend? Boyfriend? Aw heck, he wasn’t sure but he sure wasn’t complaining, curled up against Ford as he explained some of the dimensions with an excited sparkle in his eyes. The more he spoke the more Fiddleford remembered their late study sessions back in college, how Ford would constantly ramble about this or that while an amused (or sometimes stoned) Fiddleford would watch while chiming in here or there. When Ford spoke of researching strange lands with what he had available, Fiddleford caught himself remembering their portal building days, how manic Ford had become with his insane obsession that nearly ended everything, their nights of theorizing what could have been, but never were. He remembered the final time he saw Stanford, how seeing what Bill really was had terrified him to the core, how angry he had been that Stanford had ignored his warning and how he had stormed out into the snowy woods. The next month Stanford begged for him to return, begging he would shut down everything if he came back…then he never came back, not that Fiddleford would have remembered.

“Hadron?” Ford spoke the name again, a bit concerned that he received no reply once again from the frail man resting comfortably against him, this being the fifth time he had called his name. The southerner blinked and glanced up at Stanford, his expression one of regret yet his eyes now held a familiarity that Stanford hadn’t seen up until now. “Is something that matter?”

“Just…rememberin’ is all.” He cracked a soft grin, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to Ford’s chin.

“If you’re certain.” Stanford smiled, gently holding Fiddleford closer as they relaxed under the ratty blanket Fiddleford owned. “When it stops raining…would you like to come with me back to my- the Shack?”

“Me? Really?” McGucket was taken aback at the offer.

“Absolutely. My brother may have my name right now, all in all that is still my house and I can do whatever I please with it. You could at least sleep in the old den, Stanley has left that room alone at least and I don’t use it much. I mean, I’m not asking you to move in, just at least sleep and get some proper meals and whatever else you want to do.” Ford rambled on, Fiddleford watching with an amused look until Ford trailed off with an embarrassed look.

“I wouldn’t mind me a bed ta sleep, and some good food that ain’t from a can.” Fiddleford agreed, Ford nearly jumping up in elation had he not remembered Fiddleford was lying atop him. The two shared a laugh, spending the time talking until the rain had stopped and Ford insisted on taking Fiddleford back at once. It was rather comical to see two men in their 60’s walking along the main road towards the small town’s attraction, a small lanky man nestled on the taller man’s back, but the two seemed quite as ease. It was twilight when they emerged into the clearing that held the Mystery Shack, Fiddleford waving to the younger set of twins who were understandably confused to see the town hillbilly being carried by their great uncle, the two walking into the house after exchanging brief greetings. Stan didn’t even seem surprised at the pair who went into the room he had boarded up years ago, a small smile tugging at his lips when he heard the two laugh a bit from the kitchen. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all McGucket made his brother happy, and that’s all he cared about even though they still had a bit of a rocky relationship.  
  



End file.
